


Fever

by clearinghouse



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Altered State of Mind, Cardassian Attitudes, Established Relationship, M/M, Pining, Sexual Content, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearinghouse/pseuds/clearinghouse
Summary: A disorienting fever leaves Garak feeling cold, confused, and in need of a certain doctor.





	

It was so cold! Garak cringed from pain in the stiff, sterilized bed, in his soft but stuffy clothes, and all he could think about was how cold he was. The mountain of blankets on top of him did nothing to protect him from the onslaught of pure, bitter cold that tore him from the sleep he knew he needed. The hell of Deep Space Nine would grant him no respite from his fever.

Fever. He knew he had a fever. Why wasn’t his implant helping him? Perhaps it had finally failed; they weren’t known to be reliable for as long as he had used it. Garak rubbed at his forehead, only to find an external mechanical device fitted to his brow.

“Careful, Garak.” A man in a Federation doctor uniform came by his bed swiftly. “I’ll need you to leave that on for now, all right?”

Garak stared up at him dully. Was this man responsible for his pain? The Human looked very familiar, but through the fog of the fever, Garak found he couldn’t quite remember.

Then, the words hit him suddenly: Doctor Julian Bashir.

“You can hear me, can’t you?” Bashir leaned closer, and spoke with the clarity of a parent. “You’re suffering from a severe fever. I need you to rest.”

Garak was glad that the doctor was here with him. He couldn’t quite recall why, but there was something comforting about this man’s presence, inferior race notwithstanding. There was no one else in the room.

His head thumped in pain again. “Doctor,” Garak growled, “my implant is gone.”

“Yes, it is,” Bashir smiled tightly. He straightened out some of the blankets that Garak had disrupted. “I’ll be right here if you need me. I’m not going anywhere. Now please, go back to sleep.”

Back to sleep? How did he ever fall asleep with such a pounding headache? Still, the promise of sleep was tempting enough for him to try. Garak closed his eyes.

Why was he leaving himself undefended, alone with a Starfleet officer?

Garak’s eyes shot open. Bashir had gone to a replicator, and was now holding a mug of steaming hot water. _Tarkalean tea_ , Garak thought, bewildered. The doctor was completely unarmed. This man must be too trusting for his own good, or maybe he thought that Garak was too weakened by his fever to pose any threat.

Pretending to sleep, Garak closed his eyes again and thought about the cold.

**

Julian set the mug down and looked over his shoulder. Elim had closed his eyes again, thank goodness. The stubborn Cardassian had ignored the first signs of fever and now he was paying for it. Maybe next time he would listen to the advice of an experienced doctor!

A little less than a day ago, Julian had returned to their quarters to find his boyfriend huddled against a wall, sweating profusely and spouting nonsense. Since then, Julian had kept a vigilant watch over Elim, keeping him as warm as he could in the bed they shared while also giving him whatever medical care he could provide. Unfortunately, he still had very little medical information with which to treat Cardassians, so he could only provide general relief.

Thankfully, the fever did not number among any of the worst that Julian had been forced to deal with aboard the station, and it was already improving rapidly. All he had to worry about now were the slowly diminishing symptoms, which were physically quite simple. He knew how to treat Garak’s shivering and his headache; only time would restore his cognitive awareness.

Cradling the hot tea in his hands, Julian walked by the bed and looked down at his informal patient. Before, when he had been practically unable to move, Elim didn’t even know who Julian was. Now he seemed to have forgotten about the removal of his old implant. Well, that was fine! Better to have temporary memory loss than total incapacitation.

The sleeping tailor tossed a little beneath the blankets.

“Garak? Do you need anything?” The doctor asked quietly. He wanted to call his partner by his first name, but he had tried that once earlier, and Elim hadn’t responded well to it. Either way, for now, there was no answer.

Julian exhaled loudly and sat down on the chair he had pulled up by the bed. This seemed like a good time to catch up on some lost sleep of his own, now that Elim was doing better. He finished the tea, leaving the mug on the floor, and dropped his head to the side. It was only a matter of hours now before Elim made a full recovery.

He fell asleep debating whether to chastise Elim when that time came, or kiss him senseless.

**

From a bout of sleep that was all too brief, Garak awoke with a feeling of vertigo and a deep, powerful need for the man next him.

Garak knew distantly that it was the fever, playing with the chemical imbalances of his body, but more immediately, he was confused and overwhelmed. Nothing was right; up wasn’t up, down wasn’t down, it was still cold, and he had never needed anything so badly in his life as he needed Doctor Bashir right now.

But no, he would never use his companion that way!

The tailor kept his eyes sealed and turned away from his sleeping guardian. He curled in his bed, as if to relieve the strange, tormenting ache deep within him. He forced himself to think about his sociable lunches with his dear doctor, which were the only times of pleasure remaining to him on this miserable station. If he lost those priceless encounters to base, physical urges, he would lose his kind, caring doctor. And then, he would finally have nothing left.

Garak loved Bashir; of course he did. Inferior race? Ha! To spend only a single lunch once a week with the naive but brilliant Julian Bashir, so infinitely curious and compassionate, was already a blessing that Garak had done nothing to deserve. To have more than that would be a miracle. Even so, where feelings could never be returned, it was better not to dwell.

And yet, how he wanted him right now. His entire body throbbed with an unhealthy need, as his mind imagined how it might be to have an imaginary, willing Doctor Bashir, one who didn’t chase after women, one who needed Garak as badly as Garak needed him.

A dark force was clouding Garak’s judgment. _Just this once,_ he started thinking, _just this once, to hell with the consequences. Bashir could be mine, whether he wants it or not._

Garak nearly screamed with disgust at himself, _I would rather die first!_

If only his colleagues could see him now. Wouldn’t they be so pleased to see how far the mightiest of spies has fallen? How awfully weak and vulnerable he had become? Garak was not egotistical, but never before had he been so unable to control himself, and it threatened to tear him apart.

Sighing rancorously, he kept as quiet and still as possible, waiting impatiently for his body to obey him. He wished avidly that Bashir would just leave him alone.

**

Julian woke from his nap only for a few minutes. Oh, good, Elim was sleeping peacefully. Soon, when the fever finally broke, they would be able to put this whole ordeal behind them.

He yawned and let his head fall again, embracing sweet dreams of him and his mate eating spice pudding together and arguing over the theoretical limits of the state.

**

Garak’s heart was beating wildly, and the blood was pounding in his ears. The passing of time was against him; instead of quelling the fire in him, it had flared it higher, and higher, and higher still. His sweet doctor, his kind doctor, his fever droned, there was nothing else in the world but Garak’s unmatched love for his lovely Bashir!

Without thinking, Garak kicked the blankets off of the bed and grabbed the sleeping human by the shirt. Garak threw him face-down on the bed, which roused the doctor efficiently. He blinked dazedly, and looked up at his captor in innocent interest.

“What?” Bashir pushed himself up a bit on his elbows. “Elim? What’s going on?”

Garak groaned. Such a rich, lovely voice Bashir had. They were both still fully clothed, but he couldn’t stop himself from applying his body firmly, desperately, to that of the doctor, and his clothes did nothing to hide his insistent desire. He had no choice but to beg for the doctor’s reciprocation; his ruined body and his delusional mind would have it no other way. “Please…”

“Oh!” That sophisticated, tantalizing voice rose in pitch in surprise. “I see… Are you feeling all right?”

“Please, Doctor!” Garak cried out into the back of his friend’s neck, ashamed of this coarse behavior all the while. “I need you!”

“Mm… Sure, baby.”

Garak shivered at those unexpected words.

“If you’re feeling up to it, of course.” Bashir let himself fall softly against the bed. “Come on, Elim. I can feel exactly how much you want it.” He grinned up at the lusting Cardassian. “I’m yours.”

Garak moaned, grinding himself unconsciously against the doctor. Little slut! Did Bashir understand? Did the man know how badly he was needed, and was acting out of compassion? Or did he wanted a fun but meaningless diversion?

None of that mattered. His body pulsed with desire. Garak needed Bashir madly, but he didn’t want to lose him, but he needed him so very badly, but Bashir didn’t even like men, but he was so soft and warm…

The doctor spoke again after Garak hesitated for too long. “You don’t feel very steady to me. I think this might be too much for you so soon after your fever.” Bashir easily flipped onto his back and reached his hand up to caress the fine structure of Garak’s face. “Hey, don’t worry, I’ll still take care of you. Trust me.”

“Doctor…” Garak gasped out in shocked lust. He didn’t know whether to lean into the wonderful caress or to flinch away.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” Bashir gave a playful smile, then gently scooted down the mattress. The doctor slowly hooked his hands into Garak’s trousers.

Garak’s hands balled up into fists against the bed, and his eyes fell closed at the feeling of his secret beloved’s fingers against his skin, while his body tensed uncontrollably. A small warm and fuzzy feeling was growing inside his chest, while the much more powerful throb of his groin was demanding his attention.

“Relax…” The fine hands released the elastic of the trousers and moved further inside, floating lovingly along the skin there and sending shivers up Garak’s spine. “Take it easy, that’s it…”

For once, the tailor was completely speechless. Those hands felt so good. Why didn’t he care about why this was happening? This was nothing like what he had imagined, the dirty, awful fantasies of roughly taking the doctor. Instead, this was tender, sweet, and so heartbreaking that it was almost unbearable.

_I love you,_ he almost said. The words clogged in his throat.

He took in a deep, shaky breath and allowed himself a look down. His dear doctor! Bashir was beautiful, vibrant and young. Those surgeon’s hands were busy delightfully easing off Garak’s pants now, and great Cardassia, did the doctor just lick his lips?

“You look so good, Elim. Sorry if I’m coming off a little over-eager, but I’ve missed you so much, you know?”

“Please,” Garak sobbed. “Doctor… Doctor Bashir, please…”

But those words only caused Bashir to stop completely, a troubled expression settling suddenly on his features.

“Doctor!” It took all the tailor’s willpower to stop himself from slamming down into the doctor. He was too far gone; he was achingly hard, and he couldn’t remember why this was a bad idea. All he wanted was Julian Bashir, body and soul, and he was more than ready to settle for his body. “Bashir, I beg you, please!”

“… Hey, Elim? Elim? Look at me for a moment, will you?”

Garak shook his head resolutely, afraid of how weak he would look. He definitely was not in his right mind. He wasn’t prepared for this.

“Look at me, Elim.”

A few seconds passed, then, unable to wait, Garak cracked open his eyes and looked down.

“Hey,” Bashir beamed patiently. “Call me Julian.” In one deft move, with one hand steadying Garak’s hips, the doctor lifted himself up and tongued him.

“OhyesJulianplease.” Garak’s hips involuntarily bucked into Bashir’s welcoming lips. It was perfect and warm, and that was when Garak realized that he wasn’t cold anymore. He was warm, melting into his sweet doctor, knowing nothing but his fever-driven need and the feel of the man who was sating it.

Bashir’s eyes fluttered blissfully shut. “Mmm…”

Garak shuddered. This was too marvelous. He had never felt better in all of his life. Yet in this delusional, emotionally disrupted state, he wondered if he could ever enjoy a simple lunch with his dear doctor again, and the thought of such a deep loss nearly made him burst into tears.

That mouth was slowly moving upwards, and every euphoric inch was like an eternity to the tailor, making him forget about everything but the man beneath him. Somewhere far away, the palm against his hip had moved up into the darkness under his shirt, gliding all along the contours of his chest, lingering on the patterns of his ornate skin.

Garak gasped helplessly and moved into Bashir in earnest, compelling the Human to lay his head flat against the bed while the Cardassian dared to go further and further. If Garak were thinking, he would have noted that his favorite doctor was exceptionally practiced at this maneuver, but he wasn’t thinking at all. “Julian… Thank you…”

_I love you… I love you…_

Garak’s mouth opened and closed, trying to express gratitude but unable to form the words he longed to say.

Bashir must have noticed, because it was at that moment that he took Garak into himself very deeply and sucked loudly.

“Julian!” There was no hope for him now. With an animalistic cry, Garak spilled himself into Bashir’s greedy throat, losing himself in the rush of pure pleasure and relief that overtook him.

_Forever_ , he thought deliriously. _Keep him forever, protect him forever, love him forever. I will paint you in blue, Julian. I will whisk you away to Cardassia, I will show you such beautiful things._

As he slowly regained his senses, Garak rolled off the object of his desire, gasping for breath. Stars blinked in his vision, and gravity resettled to its proper orientation.

Bashir repositioned Garak’s pants and pushed himself back up the bed to join him. Bashir threw one arm over his chest and slipped the other one into the black hair, snuggling up against the tailor.

Drowsiness licked at the Cardassian. “Doctor… Julian… “

“I know you do, Elim.” Bashir held Garak’s face again, and pulled himself in for a long, light kiss. “Say it anyway.”

Nothing could stop the words from coming now. “I love you.”

Bashir nuzzled himself against him anew. “I love you, too.”

“Julian… Are you crying?”

“Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning…”

Without meaning to, the tailor spy fell into a deep, restful sleep.

**

Elim shot forward. He reached instinctively for his lover, but Julian was conspicuously absent from the bed. At some point, a single blanket had been replaced on top of Elim.

“Good morning… Do you feel any better?” The voice came from the chair by the bed, where the worried caretaker had only recently managed to fall asleep. Julian mumbled sleepily and rubbed his heavy eyes. As a sort of half-consciousness gradually came back to him, his demeanor hardened and he became more serious. The tailor noted that his face had dried. “I don’t suppose you remember me now?”

Elim stared openly at his beloved, amazed that Julian was here with him. With the fever lifted, he was able to recognize his long-time lover, and the stark reality of it all struck him. He hadn’t lost anything; far from that, he had gained. He loved Julian dearly, and his feelings were returned, and Deep Space Nine was no longer the hell it had once been.

The incoherent ramblings of his mind from last night returned to him. They seemed so odd that he could hardly believe that they were his own. Whisk Julian away to Cardassia? No, they were happy here. War-torn Cardassia was not what it once was. It was more foreign than familiar now. He would have preferred to show his love around Cardassia when it was in its prime. Still, maybe one day…

What was that other thought? Paint Julian in blue? That one brought a sincere smile to Elim’s face. Imagining his doctor wearing the make-up most typical of Cardassian females on his forehead… He must have had quite the debilitating fever!

What did Julian say just now? Oh, yes!

“Of course I remember you, my dear.” Elim sat upright on the edge of the bed in front of the doctor and embraced him. How would the Cardassian ever explain himself? “I do apologize for putting you through this, Julian. The fever…”

“I know.” The Human let out a great exhale of relief. “I’m just glad you’re back to normal. Still, I’m sorry, for what I did last night.”

Was Julian apologizing? Well, at the very least, he never ceased to surprise him. Elim pulled back to arm’s length. “Oh? And what did you do?”

“Ha! You were there, weren’t you?” Julian slouched drowsily and smiled sadly. “Aren’t you the least bit upset that I took advantage of you? I mean, I didn’t realize at first that you were still unwell, but I should have stopped then… But you seemed like you needed me so much… You were so excited, I wanted to do something for you…”

“My dear doctor! Quite frankly, I do not at all regret what was most assuredly a satisfying experience, and if you keep talking that way, I may lose control all over again. Personally, I would rather wait until tonight to repay my debt to you, after you’ve slept some more.” The tailor wagged his finger delightfully. “Surely you have no regrets of your own? If I’m not mistaken, you usually can’t get enough of me, after all! Do you not think of me as a Cardassian delicacy?”

Despite himself, Julian laughed. “Actually, yeah… I guess it was nice.”

Elim laughed as well.

_Yes,_ Julian thought as he fought to keep more tears at bay. _It was nice to save you all over again._

End.


End file.
